The Rise of Thirteen
by HappyKatcha
Summary: What if he never died? What if he had a son, the splitting image of him? What if he came back to visit the one true love of his life?


The Rise of Thirteen  
  
  
Authors Note: This took a long while to write, so please keep with me. Um... not much to say... yeah... oh yeah! RNR! Flames are welcome, though despised... insult my intelligence and your name goes on my list... LIST OF SHAME!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Ok, we all know what this is... I do not own Gundam Wing, some other people do. I own my own characters (i.e: Brent, ect.) And my friends own Brent also. Thank you.  
  
  
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The Rise of Thirteen  
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My mother said that I had had a father. Well, every kid needs one to actually become a kid, ya know? Anyway, she said I had had a dad. That he died in the war before I was even born. He didn't even know that my mom was pregnant when he died. Mom says that he probably watches me every day now, that he knows I'm alive. Well, what more could you expect from a heart-broken woman with two children?  
  
My mom was, and still is, a very strong woman. She was a very important person in the War of 195. She never quite told us who she worked for, but it was one of the leaders of OZ. She said she regretted working for OZ. I didn't care what she said, it didn't matter now.  
  
My dad died at the end of 195, the end of that part of the war. She was heart-broken, barely even pregnant with me. And in 197, my sister Marie went crazy and tried to take over the world in her fathers name. (Whoever that was, noone ever told me, we weren't even allowed to mention his name in school) Mom took Marie in, since Marie had no father and no family, and mom raised her. Raised her as my sister. She was about seven years older than me. But that didn't matter much, didn't matter much at all.  
  
So here I was. Thirteen years old. Actually, almost thirteen. It was July 26, 209. (Me being born August 9, 196) Any normal, every-day summer day in my life. I had been skating around with my friends on our skateboards. Loitering, causing trouble. Running from the pigs... same ol', same ol'. The usual. But it was fun, without my buddies and my mischieveness, I'd be nothing... I'd be some bookworm... I'd be... getting good grades?  
  
Anyway! So I was skating around, and I looked at my watch.  
  
"Damn... sorry, guys, but I gotta go home now. I need a be home before my mom comes home... ok? See ya later! Peace!" I yelled, them all waving as I zoomed home. I skidded up the driveway and jumped off my skateboard, seeing that my mom's car wasn't there. Excellent.   
  
Stepping inside, I noticed it was unusually hot. For some reason, I knew I wasn't alone. And the only person who always put the thermostat high was...  
  
"Marie." I mumbled, as she appeared from the kitchen, a sandwich half in her mouth and her light red, slightly pink hair tied up in simple pigtails. Her clothes were as usual, dark jeans and a black (or sometimes other colours) tank-top. Her necklaces were fewer in number. Only four this time. And she was only wearing a ring on every second finger. Maybe college had changed her, put her in check. But we were both weird.  
  
My usual appearance was always with a hat or hair in spikes. Dark baggy jeans, baggy shirt of assorted colours. Skater shoes. That's how I looked, my mom hated how we dressed, but she's so out of the time. She's so... 190's. Ah well, her fault.   
  
"Shouldn't you be in school?" I asked, throwing my backpack on the ground near the door and wandering into the kitchen.  
  
"No, it's summer, kid." She followed me, chewing on the sandwich.  
  
"Don't call me kid." I looked in the fridge and took out a couple of pops. "Don't you have any freak friends?"  
  
"Yeah, but I decided to come home to see my family. Yeesh, sorry for caring." Marie sat down at the table and stole one of my pops. I sat across from her and ate some cookies. I just stared at her.  
  
She was twenty years old then. Still acted like a teenager, though. And she was studying engineering. They were now building models of mobile suits, though the making of them is prohibited. They could always have a hope, right?  
  
"Well, you could've told me. Then I could've stayed out longer."  
  
"What were you gonna do? Vandalize?"  
  
"Go to the library." I laughed.   
  
"Very funny... you have a girlfriend yet, Brent?" Marie asked ever so calmly. I blinked and looked at her, then looked down at my hands.  
  
"Not yet."  
  
"Aw, come on, you're a great kid, someone's bound to like you."  
  
"People like me, sure they do. But I'm only in 7th grade, lemme live a litte. Oh yeah, you called me kid again, Marie." I looked up, just as the doorbell rang. I jumped up.  
  
"You're my brother! I can if I wanna!" Marie yelled after me as I ran to the door.   
  
She was a cool sister, I loved her to death. But she could be so annoying sometimes. Ah well, she was family.   
  
I flew to the door, not bothering to check who it was and flung it open.  
  
"Hel--hello?" I looked up at the vaguely familiar man, he was tall, but not much taller than me. (I had grown quite a bit during the year.) He looked down at me curiously, his light brown hair, much like mine, not moving an inch as he looked me over. He smiled warmly, a frightening smile. Practiced, charming. Frightening.   
  
"Hello. I don't believe I reached the right house. Is this when Lady Une lives?" He said with a diplomat voice. Sounded like a reporter to me.  
  
"Yeah...but she don't care for any reporters or army people. She's done with that crap, excuse my language." I explained to him, moving to close the door.  
  
"I'm not a reporter or an army personnel. I'm an old friend." He looked at me with that same sickening smile.   
  
'I wish he'd stop being so charming!,' I thought,'It's sick!'  
  
"I'm not allowed to have anyone in the house." I moved to close the door again, but his hand was in the way.  
  
"So she lives here, right?" He gave me some look, I can't describe it... It was something in his eyes, a flicker, a glitter. I don't know. But I had seen it before, in other peoples faces. In my mothers eyes whenever Marie mentioned her father.   
  
Then I remembered.  
  
I had seen his face before. In a hidden picture, a picture my mom stashed in one of her junk drawers in her room. Full of pictures. I remember now...  
  
  
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Brent skipped into his mothers room. He was a little 8 year old, his hair newly cut, his blue eyes sparkling. His dazzling smile intriguing, yet frightening at the same time. He skipped over to his mother, who was cleaning out her drawers.  
  
"Why are you cleaning, mom?"  
  
"Because I need to, Brent. And you do too." His mother smiled at him, and he smiled back, showing an empty place in his mouth where a tooth once had been.  
  
"Yeah, right. Can I help?" Brent asked his mother. She nodded, glad for the help, and scooted over.  
  
"Help yourself."  
  
And they cleaned and sorted in silence. Brent looked at everything he found, then put it in the appropriate pile. There were trinkets of all kinds: Necklaces, bracelets, earrings, letters, coins, pictures. One picture caught Brents eye.  
  
He picked it up and examined it. It was his mother, or he thought it was. She had glasses and hair in buns on either side of her head. Her uniform was red, with gold tassels and other ornaments. Her face was stone cold, emotionless. Beside her was a man, in a similar uniform, but blue and more masculine. His hair was light brown, arranged perfectly, with an intelligent, yet deadly, smile on his face. He sat on a chair, with a sword in one hand, the other placed on his sword hand. He looked lordly. Almost like God, like he ruled the whole Earth.  
  
"Mommy, who's this?" Brent asked, pointing at the man in the picture. His mothers eyes flickered, and she grabbed the picture away.  
  
"It's just an old friend... now go play with your toys, I can do the rest."   
  
"Ok..." Brent said sadly, standing up and going to the door of the bedroom. Before he left, he looked over at his mother, who sat staring at the picture sadly. Licking his lips, Brent went to play with his toys.  
  
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"Yeah, she lives here. Um.. well... I guess you can come in..." I opened the door widely enough so he could step in. The man breathed in deeply and looked around. "You haven't been in a nice house for awhile, huh?" I asked, seeing him look around longingly. The man nodded and smiled at me once again.   
  
"No... not for a while now... it's been a long time since I was in a real house."   
  
"Alright... ok... um... I guess ya can sit over there." I motioned to a couch. "Uh... are you hungry? Thirsty?"  
  
"No, I'm quite alright, thank you. May I ask your name?" The man asked of the boy standing only 10 feet away. He sat down, looking at the young boy questionally.  
  
"It's Brent. Brent Une. What can I call you?"  
  
"Just Thirteen."  
  
*~~*  
  
"It's freaky, Marie, he's looking around the house like he hasn't been in one for ages. And he told me to call him Thirteen." I told my older sister, eating a sandwich, sitting on the counter top. Marie stop her raiding of the kitchen and looked at me  
  
"You mean to tell me, you let the guy in, some guy you don't even know, and he's sitting in our front room right now?"  
  
"Well... yeah..."  
  
"Brent! Do you know how dangerous that is?!" Marie scolded. "Don't you remember, don't talk to strangers?"  
  
"But this is different, Marie! I've seen this guy in a picture that mom had. It was awhile back, but I remember his face. His stance. I have a feeling it's the same guy! And I don't think he's here to hurt us. I think... I think he might even be lost..." I looked down at my sandwich. I knew that Marie would probably not believe me, but it was worth a try. Slowly, looking up at my older sister, I saw a flicker in her eyes.  
  
"Maybe... I'll go see him. See if anything's up with him. You stay here. Alright?"  
  
"Sure." I agreed as she left the kitchen to the living room. Quietly following her, so she wouldn't notice me, I watched from around a corner.   
  
Walking slowly into the living room, Marie observed the man. His back was to her, so all she saw was his beat up brown coat and the rough looking khakis on his legs. The man looked like a war refugee, yet how he stood, his hands behind his back and straight, looked almost royal. Stately, diplomatic. Not at all like those refugees she had seen back in former southern Europe.  
  
The man was looking at some pictures on the mantel of the fireplace. He looked peaceful, serious. Or he seemed, that is, because Marie couldn't quite see his face. He picked up a picture and examined it.  
  
"This is you, isn't it?" The man, known as Thirteen to her and me, asked Marie.  
  
"Um... if it's a little girl with pink hair, probably." Marie replied, not quite knowing how he knew she was there.  
  
"I heard you come out, if you were wondering."  
  
"Oh." Well, that solved that problem.  
  
"A fascinating colour of hair, I must say. Where did you get it from?" Still, the mysterious man didn't turn around to face her, as he put the picture back on the mantel and picked another up. It was mine and Marie's mother.  
  
"I don't know, really. Maybe on my dads side of the family. I'm not quite sure, though. Never met the man."  
  
"I'm sorry, he must've been a great man." Thirteen turned and faced Marie. She stared at him like he was a ghost. Maybe he was.  
  
"Sir, who are you?"  
  
"Your brother probably told you already, but I will repeat. Just call me Thirteen for now." He smiled at her.   
  
'He has alot of secrets behind that smile,' Brent thought. 'And I have seen this man before. I was right. He does look lost. What is he hiding?'  
  
"What kind of name is that, Thirteen?"  
  
Thirteen shrugged. "It isn't mine. It's my... shall we say, code name?"  
  
'Now he's freaking me out. Code name? That's not good.' I thought, alarmed. Marie and Brent noted his shirt. It was blue, or supposed to be blue, since it was so dirty. The collar was crisp, starched. Odd to see in his whole attire.  
  
"Code name?"  
  
"Yes. But not as harsh. Is Lady Une coming home soon?"  
  
"Alright, listen here, buddy," Marie started, mad, afraid. Defensive over her family. "I don't know who you are, and what you want with us. My mom's name isn't Lady Une or whatever. Hasn't been that for years. Now you tell me your real name and what you want with us right now, or else I'll---" Marie was cut off by a car sliding up the driveway. She gave Thirteen one last glare and headed to the window. "Oh, there's your Lady now." Marie marched outside to the car.  
  
Thirteen didn't look stunned at all. It seemed like he expected it, from this crazy-dressed girl. Maybe that was something. Maybe he knew Marie.  
  
Voices came from outside, traveling in through the cracks in the door, to the mans ears. One was of the girl, the other of a woman, berating her. Thirteen heard four footsteps go up the steps in front of the door, then the door slowly slid open.  
  
"But mom! Listen to me! Don't go in there!"  
  
"Marie, I think I'll be perfectly fine."  
  
"You're risking your life, mom."  
  
"Marie! I'll be fine!" With that, the woman entered the house and looked over in the direction of Thirteen.  
  
Her keys fell to the floor.  
  
  
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Alright, Chapter One finished! How'd y'all like it? RNR with comments, whether good or bad. Anything I should improve upon? Merci!  
  
--Chantal--


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